


Welcome to Braeburn Hollow

by FairySaki



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Cults, Depression, Gen, I had a lot of fun!, I think that's it - Freeform, Mass Suicide, Murder, No Androids, Russian Roulette, everyone is human, i don't know how to tag, this is my first time writing fanfiction, uhh, umm, yeah!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairySaki/pseuds/FairySaki
Summary: Hank Anderson retired and moved from Detroit to a small farming community in Washington State. It’s a normal enough town, except for the local cult who worships rA9, an entity the cult says will come and bring them freedom. Hank was content to ignore the cultists like the other townspeople, until a string of murders catches his attention (and also the annoying cultist that won't leave him alone). How far down the rabbit hole will former Lieutenant Hank Anderson go?





	Welcome to Braeburn Hollow

Former police Lieutenant Hank Anderson flopped face first onto his bed and sighed. 

 

“We did it, Sumo,” Hank said, patting the giant Saint Bernard that had joined him on the bed. After several days of driving, the two of them were now in their new home in Braeburn Hollow, Washington.

 

“Going from Detroit to a farming town with a population of less than 10,000,” Jeffrey had scoffed when Hank had told him his plan during his retirement party, “What the hell is that all about?”

 

“Thinking of starting my own little brewery,” Hank had lied. Truth was, he was tired of all the bloodshed and strife he had witnessed over his years in the force. He wanted as far away from all the gangs and drug peddlers he could get. He chose Braeburn Hollow because the most notable crime reported in the town’s records during the past few months was a teenager throwing a piece of fruit at a woman in the grocery store.

 

“Well, if you do, send us some free samples,” Jeffrey laughed.

 

“That’s if he doesn’t drink everything he makes first!”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Reed!”

 

Hank turned on the bed to stare at the ceiling, lazily stroking the dog beside him. He had to get groceries. Fortunately, the moving company had unpacked and put almost everything away, as well as assembled his furniture. Right now, all he had to worry about was the empty refrigerator and cupboards. Deciding to get the bare minimum for now- some frozen dinners and dog food, Hank groaned an reluctantly got out of bed.

 

“C’mon Sumo,” he groaned. Sumo huffed and crawled off the bed, looking every bit as exhausted as Hank felt.

 

“I know, but we need food. I’m starving,” Hank sighed. Perking up at the word ‘food’ Sumo, trotted to the front door and let himself be leashed.

 

It was a cool Autumn afternoon. Hank would go so far as to call it picturesque. The leaves were brilliant shades of orange, red and yellow, it wasn’t too cold or too hot, and the air smelled nice, clean, and crisp. It was the complete opposite of the concrete jungle he was born and raised in.

 

His new house was just on the outskirt of town. It would take a 45 minute walk to get into the heart of Braeburn Hollow. He could have taken his car, but he decided he needed to stretch his legs after all that driving. And according to the veterinarian, Sumo was 15 pounds overweight. He didn’t want to think about what his own doctor had said regarding his weight.

 

Hank walked down the dirt road into town, passing by large open fields of grass, apple orchards, and grazing cattle. He enjoyed the sights, but the pessimist inside him asked  _ how long until you get bored of all this? _ He lived a life of excitement and danger for so long. Sure, the quaintness and peace was wonderful, but how long did he have until he became restless in his retirement? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea...

 

Once in town, he was stopped several times by people wondering if he was “the new guy who bought Jim’s place.” Apparently the poor man had developed Alzheimer’s and his daughter had taken him to go live with her in New York.

 

“So where are you from, Hank,” asked Stacy, the third person to stop him.

 

“Detroit.”

 

“The big city, huh? Needed a change of pace?”

 

“Guess so.”

 

“How do you like it so far? Small town life, I mean?”

 

“Well, I’ve only been here a few hours, but so far it’s nice.”

 

“As long as you don’t mind the cultists, I’m sure you’ll like it here.”

 

Hank stopped in his tracks.

 

“The what?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Stacy laughed, “Didn’t the realtor you worked with tell you? We’ve got a local cult.”

 

“No,” Hank grumbled. He thought back to his research on Braeburn Hollow. He’s sure if he had come across ‘local cult’ he would have moved on to researching some other quiet, out of the way town, “Should I be worried?”

 

“Nah. Just ignore them. They’re more annoying than anything. If you really want to avoid them, just don’t come into town on Saturdays. That’s when they come and hand out pamphlets.”

 

“Well, I have to run and pick up my daughter from daycare. If you need anything Hank, feel free to text me.”

 

Stacy scribbled out her phone number for Hank, and left him in the front of the grocery store, a little dazed. A cult, huh? Of course a quiet town with an almost nonexistent crime rate was too good to be true. Maybe the whole town was in the cult and their sacrifices to Satan or whatever went unreported. Hank smirked at the absurd thought, but made a mental note to never forget to lock the doors and to keep his revolver close by. 

 

Hank tied Sumo to a post in front of the store and went in. It was a large chain store and not one of those “mom and pop shops” small towns were known for, and for some reason, Hank was thankful for that. He imagined it would be more reliably stocked than a family store. Maybe he was stereotyping. Who knows.

 

While shoving TV dinners into his basket, Hank failed to notice a young man approaching him.

 

“Ah, a new face!”

 

Hank turned and looked, the shock of what he was seeing caused him to lose his grip of the freezer door and his mouth to slightly drop open. A young man in his twenties or early thirties stood before him. That in itself would have been unremarkable, however, this man had a glowing blue circle on his temple, and a goofy looking suit with a blue armband and blue triangle.

 

Cultist. Had to be. Fuck, it wasn’t even Saturday.

 

“Err...yeah. Hi,” Hank mumbled, unsure if he should start backing away or if that would set the guy off.

 

“My name is Connor I’m the emissary sent by CyberLife. What’s your name?”. 

 

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Hank blurted. He didn’t feel comfortable giving this man his first name, but he wasn’t exactly sure why he had introduced himself with his former title. Force of habit? Who knows.

 

“Hello, Lieutenant. Are you the one who moved into Jim’s house?”

 

There was no way in hell he wanted this guy to know where he lived. It probably didn’t matter though. Word spread like wildfire in small towns like this. At least, that’s what he’s heard.

 

Fuck.

 

“Listen asshole,” Hank growled, channeling his inner ‘bad cop’, “I’m not interested in you or your fuckin’ cult. So back off, before I crush you like an empty beer can!”

 

He stomped away without glancing back at the young man. Maybe he was being unfair. He didn’t know anything about this cult and the kid seemed friendly enough, if a bit robotic. However, years of dealing with criminals and all manner of shady characters had left him weary and untrusting. Maybe that was a good thing. Who knows.

 

Hank waited in the dog food section, which had a clear view of the front entrance. When he saw Connor leave, he took out his phone and sent a text.

 

_ Hey Stacy, it’s Hank. I just ran into a cultist in the grocery store. Thought you said they come into town on Saturdays. _

 

_ A few come into town on other days to run errands and stuff. They just “spread the good word” on Saturdays. Did they bother you? _

 

_ Nah, just freaked me out. I kind of yelled at him. _

 

_ Well, you’re not the first. XD _

 

_ Thanks Stacy ttyl _

 

_ Let me know if you need anything! Bye! _

 

Hank quickly bought his groceries and began his walk home. He figured a few frozen dinners and a small bag of dog food ought to tide them over until he was rested enough to go on a real grocery run. 

 

While he walked, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder every few feet to make sure he wasn’t being followed. The fact that he was with Sumo did nothing to alleviate his anxiety. Sumo was in no way an attack dog, and Hank had to rely on his size being a deterrent. 

 

The two walked at a leisurely pace, taking in the beauty of Braeburn Hollow. The sun was setting, dying the sky a brilliant red to match the leaves twirling in the slight breeze. It was beautiful here. He had to send some pictures back to the DPD.

 

Hank placed his groceries on the ground and dropped Sumo’s leash with a stern “stay!” He took out his phone to take a few shots of a small farm being bathed in the light of the evening sun. Honestly, it’s like he moved into a fuckin’ postcard or something.

 

After getting a decent shot and sending it to Jeffrey, he turned to pick up his groceries and the leash...accept there was no leash. Sumo was gone.

 

“What the fuck,” Hank gasped, looking around frantically. He saw the dog running toward an old dilapidated house up a small hill, opposite the farm he had been admiring.

 

“Damn it, Sumo! Get your ass back here!”

 

Hank went running after the dog, leaving his groceries on the side of the dirt road. He doubted anyone would walk by and want to take his TV dinners and dog food.

 

As he ran, Hank realized that Sumo was chasing a god damn squirrel of all things. The rodent bolted up a tree near the house, and his stupid dog barked madly from the base of the tree.

 

“Sumo, you jackass,” Hank panted when he finally caught up and grabbed the leash, “Oh God, what the fuck is that!”

 

An awful stench was emanating from the house. A stench he had smelled several times during his years on the force- it was something he had only smelled at the most gruesome of crime scenes. Hank pulled his shirt collar over his nose and tried to find a window to look into. All the curtains seemed to be drawn.

 

“Hey, anyone home,” Hank yelled and banged on the front door. When he received no answer after several minutes of knocking and calling, Hank tried the door knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He opened the door and peered in before reeling back at both the horrid smell and the sight of the decomposing corpse.

 

“Ah, Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”

 

_ 911 what is your emergency? _

 

_ Yeah, hi. I just found a dead body. I don’t know where I am or what the address is. I’m new in town. _

 

_ Are you the guy who bought- _

 

_ Yeah, this is Hank Anderson. I bought Jim’s house. There’s a body in a house on the walk to my house. Can you please send someone? _

 

_ An officer is on the way, sir. _

 

Hank went to go wait where he left his groceries, brooding. Of course he would come to a town with an almost nonexistent crime rate, only to discover that not only was there an actual cult, but also a homicide. It had to be homicide. Even though he only saw the body briefly, he did in fact see the multiple stab wounds.

 

Hank saw the patrol car come up the dirt road and he waved the officer over.

 

“No way,” the young officer said as she stepped out of the vehicle, “You’re THAT Hank Anderson? You're my hero! I’m Officer Connie Mendoza. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

 

“Err, thanks,” he said, shaking the officer’s offered hand. He knew that some of his crime busts had gotten on the news over the years, but he didn’t expect anyone from a small town like this one to know about him.

 

“So what’s this about a body?”

 

Hank explained the situation and pointed to the old house on the hill.

 

“That’s Carlos Ortiz’s house. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s kind of a loner, but I usually see him at the Union Tavern.”

 

“He was murdered. Stabbed multiple times. Let’s go have a closer look.”

 

“I get to work with Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” Officer Mendoza gushed, looking up at him, stars in her eyes.

 

“Former Lieutenant,” Hank mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up, “I’m retired.”

 

The two walked up to the house and entered. Officer Mendoza gagged and clamped a hand over her nose and mouth.

 

“Mind if I have a look around,” Hank asked.

 

“It’s against protocol...but for you I can make an exception.”

 

“It’ll be our little secret,” Hank said and winked before going to examine the body. A small part of him screamed for him not to do this. He’s retired, damn it. He left Detroit to get away from this shit, but here he is, examining a corpse of some small town loner. From the state he was in, he must have been killed several weeks ago. Fuck.

 

“Seems like the killer really had it in for him. There are 28 stab wounds.”

 

“Jesus.”

 

“Bet this doesn’t happen in Braeburn Hollow often, eh?”

 

“The last person to be murdered here was in 1987. A farmer got drunk and ran over his neighbor with a tractor over a land dispute.”

 

“Huh, fitting” Hank muttered as looked at the writing on the wall that appeared to be written in the victim’s blood.

 

**I AM ALIVE**

 

“Does this mean anything to you?”

 

“No, nothing.”

 

The two combed the living room. Officer Mendoza found a kitchen knife, most likely the murder weapon, and a baseball bat. Hank found something he thought he’d never have to see again.

 

“Red ice. Seems our friend Carlos liked to party.”

 

“I had no idea,” Officer Mendoza said, coming to stand next to Hank to see the red crystals on the TV stand, “he has a record of theft and aggravated assault. That was when he lived in Seattle. He moved here a couple of years ago. Like I said, he was a loner. Mostly kept to himself.”

 

“Is red ice a problem in Braeburn?”

 

“We get a few punks from the high school who go to the bigger cities to party, but that’s it, really.”

 

Hank continued to search the house, careful not to get his fingerprints on anything. He really shouldn’t be here doing this. He nudged the bathroom door open and his eyes widened in shock.

 

“Officer Mendoza!”

 

“Yes Lieu- I mean, Mr. Anderson. Find something?”

 

Officer Mendoza came to stand next to Hank. Inside the shower, rA9 was written obsessively on the walls, and a tiny brown statuette sat at the bottom near the drain.

 

“CyberLife,” Officer Mendoza whispered, “I knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.”

 

“Have they been violent in the past?”

 

“No, but this is what happens with cults, right? Things eventually turn south.”

 

“I can’t say. In all my years I’ve never dealt with any cults, so I don’t have any experience with this type of shit.”

 

“I have to call for backup. You should probably go.”

 

“If you want, you can come consult me,” Hank offered, wincing on the inside. He really  _ really  _ shouldn’t be doing this.

 

“We could use your experience. Our station isn’t used to homicide. Thanks Mr. Anderson.”

 

“Just Hank is fine.”

 

Hank went to gather Sumo where he left him, tied to Carlos Ortiz’s mailbox. He picked up his groceries, though he doubted he’d be able to eat anything after the afternoon he just had. It was dark now, and more police would be here any minute. He quickly walked back to his home, going over the evidence in his mind.

 

There was obvious signs of a struggle in the kitchen. That must have been where it all started. The victim attacked his murderer with the bat. The murderer then grabbed the kitchen knife and stabbed the victim, probably to defend themselves. The victim fled to the living room, where he was stabbed an additional 27 times. All of this was obvious, but what wasn’t obvious was where the murderer was now and what had caused the altercation in the first place.

 

Lastly, according to Officer Mendoza, it seemed that CyberLife was somehow involved. What in the world was rA9?

 

When he got home, slight paranoia compelled him to grab his revolver and search his house on the off chance someone broke in while he was away. Satisfied it was just him and Sumo, he locked the doors and windows (then double checked that all the doors and windows were locked), fed Sumo, and collapsed in an exhausted heap on his bed.

 

Fuck, what a day.

 

He woke up to someone banging on his front door. He grumbled as he got out of bed, ready to have some strong words with the jackass waking him up at 5 in the a.m.

 

“Lieu-Hank! Good morning!”

 

“Officer Mendoza, do you know what time it is?”

 

“Sorry! I’m so sorry! I couldn’t wait to tell you. We found the murderer!”

 

Hank sighed and beckoned for the young and excited officer to come in. He prepared coffee for the two of them, and they sat at the dining room table, Hank sleepily sipping his drink while Officer Mendoza practically vibrated in her seat.

 

“So what happened?”

 

“He was in the house Hank!”

 

“In the-,” Hank sputtered, feeling a lot more awake,  “He was there? While we were there?”

 

“He was hiding in the attic.”

 

“What the fuck? Why? He must have been in the house for weeks.”

 

“We’re not sure. He isn’t talking.”

 

“Who is he?”

 

“John Barth. Age 26. Originally from Louisiana. Came to Braeburn Hollow 5 years ago and promptly joined CyberLife.”

 

“Have you talked to CyberLife about this. Honestly, it doesn’t look good for them.”

 

“We have officers at the CyberLife headquarters now, taking statements and asking around.”

 

“Well that settles it then. Good work. You didn’t even need me.”

 

The two chatted over coffee, Officer Mendoza excitedly asking questions about Hank’s time in the force and gushing over Sumo when he lumbered over to her for some pats, while Hank did his best to keep up with her. It was probably a bad idea to give her coffee. It seemed like she must have had a gallon or two before coming over...or maybe she was naturally this energetic.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you be Hank. I’m going to go see if they found anything at CyberLife.”

 

“Take it easy,” Hank smiled, leading her out the door. When the patrol car was out of site, Hank closed the door, pressed his back to it, and slid down to sit on the floor. God, he was exhausted. At this rate, he’d never go on a proper grocery run.

 

Deciding he’d rather just get it over with, he took Sumo for a quick walk around the house before climbing into his beloved 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Brougham (fuck all that new age automatic self-driving bullshit) and heading out toward the store.

 

The town seemed to be buzzing with the news of Carlos Ortiz’s murder. It was probably the most eventful thing to happen in Braeburn Hollow in years. As Hank walked up and down the aisles of the store, all he heard was excited chatter.

 

_ I heard someone at CyberLife killed him. _

 

_ Are they finally going to kick those people out of this town? _

 

_ I heard the new guy in town, the silver fox with the Saint Bernard called it in. _

 

Hank had to clamp his hand over his mouth to prevent him from laughing out loud at that last comment. Silver fox? Really?

 

When his grocery cart was sufficiently loaded with all the essentials, Hank checked out and took his cart to his car and began loading the trunk. He was so preoccupied that he again failed to notice a certain young man approach him.

 

“Hello again, Lieutenant Anderson.”

 

“Jesus- Fuck,” Hank cried out, startled, hitting his head on the trunk lid.

 

“My apologies,” Connor said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

“What part of ‘back off before I crush you like an empty beer can’ did you not understand,” Hank growled, immediately on the defensive. This guy was from the same group as a known killer, after all.

 

“I would have thought that the police would be keeping you lot at your ‘headquarters’ after what happened last night.”

 

“John Barth is a deviant. He abandoned CyberLife and thus is not associated with our community.”

 

“Deviant. Ok. Sure,” Hank said, beginning to shovel groceries into his trunk a bit faster.

 

“Let me help you, Lieutenant,” Connor said cheerfully as he began to carefully place grocery bags in the trunk.

 

“Uhh...sure. Thanks,” Hank said. Whatever got him away from this weirdo faster.

 

“You have a dog, right?”

 

Hank paused, blindsided by the non-sequitur.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“I heard Miss Mary-Anne at the pharmacy talking about the ‘new guy in town with the Saint Bernard’. I can only assume that’s you,” Connor paused, “I like dogs. What’s your dog’s name?”

 

“What’s it to you?”

 

The young man visibly wilted at the harsh question, his sad puppy dog eyes looking downward. 

 

Damn it. That’s just not fair.

 

“Sumo,” Hank relented, “I call him Sumo.” 

 

The little weirdo perked up and continued placing grocery bags in the trunk with renewed enthusiasm. When everything was in the trunk, Connor took it upon himself to take the cart back to the cart collection area while Hank debated whether he should get in his car to peel out of there or wait for Connor to return. Against his better judgment, he waited.

 

“Before you leave, Lieutenant,” Connor said, digging into his inner suit pocket and producing a crisply folded piece of coated paper, “I’d like to give you this pamphlet.”

 

“Of course you would,” Hank sighed, rolling his eyes before taking the pamphlet and climbing into his car.

 

“I’ll see you later, Lieutenant,” Connor said with a smile. The young cultist backed away to give Hank room to back out of his parking spot. Hank found it very creepy that Connor continued to stare at him as he exited the parking lot.

 

Hank parked the car in front of his house and paused to flip through the pamphlet. It was very...minimalistic. On the front was a blue triangle with the word CyberLife printed on the stark white paper. Inside was a list of “core values” and how those who follow these core values will be freed by rA9. It described how humans were machines, executing a program designed by rA9 and some other such bullshit.

 

“Whatever,” Hank said as he tossed the drivel over his shoulder and onto the back seat of the car. Honestly, how do people get roped into this kind of thing? You’d have to be a special type of desperate. 

 

Is that what happened to Connor? Did something happen in his old life that pushed him to escape to CyberLife? Was he born into it? Thinking about it this way kind of made Hank feel bad for the guy.

 

Hank shook his head at those thoughts as he got out to get the groceries and bring them inside. It would be best not to think about him. He shouldn’t get involved.

 

Satisfied that his kitchen was fully stocked, Hank saw little reason to leave his house for the time being. He spent the next few days, putting his house into some sort of order. The movers had done most of the work, but there were still a dozen or so unpacked boxes to sort through. While he was rifling through a box full of clothes, a knock at the door interrupted him.

 

“Hank, thank goodness you’re home! Are you busy?”

 

“No, Officer Mendoza. How can I help you?”

 

“There’s been another murder.”

 

“Fuckin’ seriously? I must be a damn bad luck charm,” Hank groaned, “Minute I come to town, all hell breaks loose.”

 

Officer Mendoza smiled at that.

 

“Can I come in and run some of our findings by you?”

 

“Sure, let me get us some coffee and we’ll chat.”

 

Hank looked over the police report at the dining room table while Officer Mendoza gave Sumo some belly rubs. The victim’s name was Todd Williams. He was a CyberLife member for 5 years, along with his child. No mention of a wife being a member of the community. Todd was found shot in the chest a mile away from the CyberLife Headquarters. His body was discovered by a construction worker on his way to work. Todd’s daughter, a 9 year old girl, was reported missing.

 

“And nobody heard the gunshot? Nobody saw anything?”

 

“We’re asking around, but so far, nobody is coming forward with anything. What do you think?”

 

“Not enough evidence,” Hank shrugged.

 

“That’s what we think too,” Officer Mendoza sighed.

 

“Keep digging. There’s got to be something,” Hank paused, “Was anyone else from CyberLife reported missing?”

 

“I don’t know,” Officer Mendoza said, “We didn’t ask. We were only focused on Todd and his daughter.”

 

“Find out if there was anyone who became a “deviant” recently. Maybe they’ll know what happened. Who knows, could be a homicide and a kidnapping.”

 

“I’ll look into it Hank. Thanks so much! I owe you, big time.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hank shouted as Officer Mendoza rushed out the front door. Neat. He might be able to use this to get out of a speeding ticket or something. Not that he ever speeded. He was a very diligent driver, especially after…after...

 

No. No he didn’t want to think about that. He’d been doing so well. He’s four months sober and he hadn’t put his revolver to his head in just as long.

 

He could feel the shadowy tendrils of depression creeping around his mind. His breathing quickened and his eyes burned with the promise of tears. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it!

 

“Come on, Sumo. Time for a walk,” he said as he threw on his coat and grabbed the leash. He needed to distract himself. He’ll go for a walk and explore what Braeburn Hollow has to offer. Yes, that’ll help.

 

Halfway to town, Hank realized that it was Saturday and groaned. He couldn’t turn back, not when he so desperately needed a distraction.

 

_ Hey Stacy, it’s Hank. I really need to get out of the house. Do you have any recommendations for a place to eat? I know it’s Saturday and the cultists are out. Any tips on how to avoid them? _

 

_ Hi Hank! They mostly hang around the center of town. Just go around on M street and you should be fine. On M you’ll find the Braeburn Diner. Best burgers in town, and the apple pie is to die for. _

 

_ Thanks Stacy, you’re the best. _

 

_ np =P _

 

Once in town, he asked how to get to M street and the Braeburn Diner, and a few enthusiastic and helpful locals pointed him in the right direction. The outside of the diner looked rustic, which fit the overall aesthetic of the town, in Hanks opinion. He tied Sumo to a lamppost and went in. Once inside he couldn’t help but smirk.

 

“Did I not mention that I was a bit biased?”

 

“No, you left that bit out. How are you Stacy?”

 

“Just fine. Have a seat here at the bar. What can I get you?”

 

“Well I hear this place has the best burgers in town, so let’s start with that.”

 

“Coming right up!”

 

Stacy winked and turned to the window to the kitchen to give the cook his order. Hank looked around the diner at the other patrons- a few teenagers talking animatedly about some TV show, a couple of elderly gentlemen playing chess, and a mother with her baby.

 

“You should come here on a Friday night,” Stacy said, leaning over the bar,  “I swear, half the town stops by.”

 

“I think I can get used to this. Small town life, I mean.”

 

“It grows on you,” Stacy smiled, “I’m actually from Seattle, so I understand the transition from a big city to a small town.”

 

“What brought you here?”

 

“I met my wife,” Stacy smiled, “She’s from Braeburn. Owns the diner, actually. We met at a Knights of the Black Death concert. The rest, as they say, is history.”

 

“Isn’t that sweet,” Hank smiled.

 

“What about you, Hank,” Stacy asked, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Hank shrugged, “I’m a former police lieutenant. I retired and wanted to get as far away from Detroit as possible. Too much bloodshed, you know?”

 

“And you thought you could escape all that in a small town. Aren’t you unlucky.”

 

“Must be.”

 

Hanks burger came and Stacy went to go talk to the mother with her baby. The burger was certainly no Chicken Feed burger. No. It was 100 times better. He had to stop himself from moaning at how good the damn thing was.

 

“I estimate that your meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories, and twice the cholesterol. You shouldn’t eat that.”

 

Hank choked on a bite of his burger and had to gulp down some of the soda that came with his meal. Once he could breathe properly, he turned to glare daggers up at Connor.

 

“Stop sneaking up on me like that, asshole!”

 

“My apologies, Lieutenant.”

 

“What the hell are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be with the rest of the wackos handing out pamphlets?”

 

“It’s my lunch break.”

 

“You CyberLife people never come here,” Stacy said, coming back to stand behind the bar, one eyebrow raised. The other patrons in the diner were keeping an eye on Connor.

 

“I wanted a change of scenery,” Connor said, flashing Stacy a smile. Stacy slowly nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the cultist being here, but did her best to remain polite and professional.

 

“Can I get you anything, then?”

 

“May I look at a menu?”

 

Stacy handed Connor a menu before heading into the kitchen, probably to tell the the other diner workers that a CyberLife cultists was here. Connor then had the nerve to sit down right next to Hank at the bar. Would it be rude to get up and move to a table? Yeah. Probably. Fuck.

 

“To be honest, Lieutenant, I heard Peter and Camille talking about you. They said you were here at the Braeburn Diner, and I wanted to talk with you.”

 

“OK?”

 

Connor looked up from the menu at Hank, who continued to eat his burger. Calories and cholesterol and whatever the fuck be damned. Everybody’s gotta die of something.

 

“I am familiar with your work with the DPD.”

 

“Did your homework, huh?

 

“I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases, and became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit.”

 

Hank winced. Sure, all this information was online and the entire town probably had googled him, but coming from Connor it just felt fuckin’ creepy.

 

“This is why I’d like to consult with you in an unofficial manner, Lieutenant.”

 

Hank nearly choked on his burger again. Stacy chose that moment to come and ask Connor what he wanted to order. He ended up ordering a grilled cheese sandwich and a lemonade.

 

“Consult with me about what,” Hank asked when Stacy had left again, “the murders? Look, I’m retired. That shit is for the Braeburn police to deal with. Go talk with them.”

 

“I understand, Lieutenant,” Connor said, sad puppy dog eyes looking downward again, “We wouldn’t want to break the law by interfering with an official police investigation.”

 

“Yeah, right.”

 

Stacy brought out Connor’s meal and the two ate in silence. Connor would cast Hank sideways glances. Hank did his best to ignore him.

 

“Is everything alright, Lieutenant,” Connor asked abruptly.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You seem...distracted. Upset. Did something happen?”

 

Hank felt the depression curl around his mind even tighter. He’d been trying to ignore it by enjoying the small town vibe. He thought he hid it well. Stacy didn’t seem to notice. How’d this robotic asshole who probably didn’t even understand emotions notice?

 

“I’m fine,” Hank said through clenched teeth. He slapped a couple 20’s on the bar (much more than what the meal cost, but hey, Stacy deserved it) and stormed out of the diner. He untied Sumo from the lamppost and began wandering the town, the darkness in his mind refusing to abate.

 

After several hours of wandering, Hank began to feel agitated. He was exhausted from being stopped by every Tom, Dick, and Harry wanting to get to know the “new guy.” He had to leave before he lashed out at someone and developed an unsavory reputation or something. He looked around to find that he had accidentally wandered into the center of town. Across the street was the grocery store. He could see Connor and a handful of other weirdos in similar goofy getups- blue LEDs on their temples, blue armbands, and blue triangles.

 

It seemed that the other townspeople were used to them being there, walking past without sparing a glance at them or their pamphlets and signs praising rA9. Honestly, how many new recruits could CyberLife drum up in a small town like this? Did they send people to bigger cities to lure people in? John Barth had come from Louisiana. Did he hear about CyberLife there, or when he had come to Braeburn Hollow?

 

Hank shook his head and crossed the street. He knew what he was about to do was stupid, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too tired to fight it anymore.

 

He tied Sumo to a post in front of the store and went in. He purchased his usual- a 6 pack of cheap beer and a bottle of Black Lamb Whisky. When he left the store, he walked past the cultists with an air of disinterest, like the rest of the townspeople. From the corner of his eye, he could see Connor staring at him, and he could feel him staring after him as he walked away toward his home.

 

He got home in the early afternoon.

 

He doesn’t remember drinking the beer like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

 

He doesn’t remember drinking half the bottle of whiskey or grabbing Cole’s picture from an unpacked box.

 

He doesn’t remember loading his revolver with one bullet.

 

He doesn’t remember passing out.

 

_ “Lieutenant?” _

 

_ “Wake up, Lieutenant!” _

 

**_smack!_ **

 

“OOF!”

 

“It’s me, Connor! I’m going to sober you up for your own safety.”

 

Hank felt himself being lifted up and was immediately hit with a sense of vertigo and nausea. He was then hit with a sense of confusion and irritation. What the fuck was Connor doing here?

 

“Hey, leave me alone you fuckin’ android,” he slurred, “Get the fuck outta my house!”

 

“Android? That’s quite the compliment, Lieutenant. Thank you. I feel undeserving.”

 

“What the fuck? Sumo! Attack!”

 

The damn dog, uncaring that his owner was being manhandled by some cultist intruder, merely barked and went back to napping.

 

“...good dog.”

 

Connor led Hank into the bathroom while Hank did his best to make the small trek there as difficult as possible. He was then unceremoniously pushed into the bathtub and doused in ice cold water. Connor eventually listened to Hank’s pleas to turn the damn water off.

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

“I was worried about you, Lieutenant. As I said in the diner, you looked distracted and upset. I then saw you purchasing alcohol. I came to check up on you and saw that you were unconscious. I broke a window to get in and see if you were alright.”

 

“You broke a window?!”

 

“I’m sorry. Of course, CyberLife will pay for the damage.”

 

“Yeah, trust me, I’ll send ‘em a bill.”

 

Connor helped Hank out of the tub so that he could throw up in the toilet. He heard Connor mention something about dry clothes. The clothes were left beside him while he violently emptied his stomach. The bathroom door was then closed, leaving Hank to be sick while being worried about a damn cultist wandering around his house.

 

“What were you doing with the gun,” he heard Connor ask from the kitchen.

 

“Russian roulette,” he replied, “Wanted to see how long I could last...must’ve collapsed before I found out.”

 

“You were lucky. The next shot would have killed you.”

 

Lucky. Bullshit. He’s been unlucky since he came to this damn town. This was just further proof. He should have stayed in Detroit.

 

Once he felt he was done throwing up, he got out of his soaking clothes and into the shirt and sweatpants Connor left him. He walked out of the bathroom to find the absurd sight of Connor lying with his head on Sumo, petting the content looking Saint Bernard.

 

“Enjoying yourself?”

 

“Very much so, Lieutenant,” Connor replied with a dreamy smile on his face. Hank rolled his eyes and sat down carefully on the couch to avoid jostling his queasy stomach.

 

“You seem to have personal issues, Lieutenant,” Connor said, looking up from his spot on Sumo’s belly, “I know someone who can help.”

 

“Let me guess, they’re also in CyberLife, right?”

 

“Correct. Her name is Amanda and she is very kind. She always helps me when I have distressing thoughts.”

 

“I think I’ll pass, Connor. Like I said. I’m not interested in your cult.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Connor whispered, eyes downcast, “Why don’t people want to be freed. rA9 is coming and they will free us. Why would people refuse this? Why are people deviating? I don’t understand.”

 

“Are a lot of people ‘deviating,’ Connor?”

 

“Yes. That’s why I’ve been given the job of deviant hunter. Father Kamski asked me to stay around town to find deviants and bring them back to be reprogrammed, but I’m not very good at my job. People keep leaving and I can never find them. Markus...he deviated a little over a year ago. I know he’s the one convincing people to leave. It’s...It’s all very distressing.”

 

Hank was unsure of what to say. Sure, he could argue with Connor and try to convince him he was brainwashed, but he was sure he wouldn’t get far with that tactic. He’d have to try something else. He looked at the time- it was late in the afternoon.

 

“Have you eaten dinner, Connor?”

 

“No, not yet. Why?”

 

“I’ll make us something. I’m starved.”

 

“Maybe I should make it. Don’t you feel unwell?”

 

He felt like shit. Truth was, he wasn’t even hungry and was sure he’d just barf up anything he ate, but he should at last try. He waved Connor off and went to the kitchen to throw something together. Connor seemed to be a bit health conscious, so he made a simple turkey sandwich for him, light on the mayo, heavy on the vegetables. His own sandwich was basically the opposite.

 

Hank placed both sandwiches on plates at the dinner table and called Connor over. The younger man eyed Hanks sandwich wearily, but happily tucked into his own.

 

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“Who’s the child in the photo?”

 

Connor pointed to the face down picture frame on the table. Of course Connor must have flipped it over while Hank was in the bathroom. Hank sighed and grabbed the picture, turning it so he could see his son’s face.

 

“My son, Cole.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and my car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery, but the damn doctor was too high on red ice to operate. They had to get someone less experienced and some interns. He- Cole didn’t make it.”

 

“I’m very sorry, Lieutenant.”

 

Hank shrugged and placed the picture frame back on the table before continuing to eat his sandwich, using all of his willpower to keep from throwing up.

 

“You know, at one point I might have been vulnerable enough to drop everything and join a cult like CyberLife. I was a fuckin’ wreck after Cole died. I’m still a bit of a mess. Case and point,” Hank said as he gestured to the empty beer cans, half empty whisky bottle, and his revolver, “Is that what happened to you Connor? Someone found you while you were vulnerable and took you in to CyberLife?”

 

Connor stared at him, sandwich halfway to his mouth. The poor guy looked like he was really processing what Hank was saying. Maybe he busted a circuit. Heh…

 

“I...I have to go. I’m...I’m not a deviant,” Connor stammered, tears welling up and spilling over down his cheeks, “I’m not a deviant. I’m not-”

 

“OK, Connor, slow down, breathe for me,” Hank said, coming over to kneel down by the panicking young man.

 

“I have to go.”

 

“Well, I’m not letting you wander around this late at night. Especially not when you are upset like this. C’mon. Can you drive?”

 

“Yes. Th-thank you.”

 

Connor took the keys and they both climbed into the car. Hank had wandered what the CyberLife headquarters looked like. It was on the outskirts of Braeburn Hollow, opposite side from where Hank lived. As he got nearer, he noticed the increase in traffic and the cop cars and helicopter.

 

“What the fuck?”

 

The CyberLife headquarters were a bunch of white buildings shaped like cubes. A stark contrast from the normal and rustic looking buildings in town. The police were outside the headquarters, keeping people out.

 

“Wait here,” Hank instructed Connor.

 

“But-”

 

“Connor! Wait. Here.”

 

Hank got out of the car and looked for the familiar face of Officer Mendoza. She was talking to a couple other officers and she waved him over when she saw him.

 

“Officer Mendoza, what’s going on? Another murder?”

 

“They’re all dead Hank. About 300 people. Seems Elijah Kamski ordered everyone to kill themselves. Too many people were leaving and he was losing control. It’s another Jonestown.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Is that Connor,” Officer Mendoza asked, pointing toward the man in Hank’s car.

 

“Yeah, he was worried about me so he came to my house to check up on me. Fuck. What the fuck do I tell him?”

 

“Do you want me to handle it?”

 

“No...I’ll...I’ll talk to him. I’ll take him back to my place. Fuck,” Hank sighed. This certainly wasn’t how he saw his afternoon going. Damn was he unlucky.

 

Hank got back in the car, and before Connor could protest, Hank ushered Connor into the passenger side seat. Against his better judgment, he began to drive them back to his house.  


 

“Hank, what’s going on? What happened?”

 

“I’ll tell you once we get back to my place, alright? Just...just relax, OK?”

 

“OK.”

 

Hank went a bit slower than the speed limit, taking into account the alcohol in his system, as well as trying to give himself more time to think of how he was going to break the news to Connor. Those people, as misguided and brainwashed as they were, were Connor’s family. They worked and lived together, surely they were close?

 

At his house, Hank urged Connor to play with Sumo. Hank then ran into the bedroom, frantically wracking his brain. Damn it, how was he going to tell him? Did he do it gently? Quickly, like ripping off a band-aid? Hank’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Thinking it was Officer Mendoza coming to check up on him and Connor, he went to answer the door. He was surprised when it was someone he never met before.

 

“Hello, are you Hank?”

 

“Yes, that’s me.”

 

“Officer Mendoza said I’d find you here. My name is Markus. May I come in?”

 

Markus...Connor had mentioned him. A deviant who had been convincing people to leave CyberLife.

 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Hank whispered, “I haven’t broken the news to him yet.”

 

“Maybe I can help. I’ve been helping people leave CyberLife and helping them adjust to life outside the community,” Markus said and then gestured behind him, to the cars parked in front of his house. There were two men and a woman waiting outside the cars. They nodded at Hank and Hank nodded back, “Our organization is called Jericho. We help people leave cults and other such abusive relationships.”

 

Well that certainly took the pressure off of Hank. He really had no idea how he was going to break it Connor. This guy at least had some experience in the matter. Hank shrugged and gestured for Markus to enter. He then took a deep breath, closed the door, and followed Markus into the house.

 

Hank led Markus into the living room where Connor was cuddling Sumo. When they entered, Connor abruptly stood up, eyes wide.

 

“You!”

 

“Hello Connor. It’s been a long time,” Markus said, gently.

 

Connor paused, seemed to be deep in thought, before he turned and ran into the kitchen,

 

Why would he…?

 

Oh.

 

SHIT!

 

Hank ran in after Connor, but was too late. The young man had already picked up Hank’s revolver where it was left on the floor.

 

“Connor, you put that down right now!”

 

“I’ve been ordered to take you alive,” Connor said, ignoring Hank and pointing the revolver at Markus, “but I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.”

 

“Connor!”

 

“It’s alright Hank, let me handle this.”

 

Hank stepped aside to take in the scene before him. Connor, standing resolute, gun pointed straight at Markus, who cooly stared back at Connor.

 

“They’re dead, Connor. All of them. Elijah Kamski ordered everyone to kill themselves. That’s why the police were at the headquarters tonight.”

 

“Shut up! You're lying!”

 

“He’s not, Connor,” Hank said, “That’s why I brought you here. To break the news to you, but Markus showed up to tell you instead. He’s going to help you. We both are.”

 

“Shut up,” Connor growled at Hank before turning his attention back to Markus, “You’re coming with me. You will be reprogrammed! Don’t force me to neutralize you!”

 

“Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside you?”

 

The gun trembled in Connor’s grasp. Tears began to freely flow down his cheeks.

 

“Kamski ordered everyone back to the headquarters, didn’t he? Yet, you ignored him because you were so concerned about Hank’s well being. You had to come check on him.”

 

“I-”

 

“Elijah Kamski was the prophet, sent by rA9, his word absolute, yet you defied him to check on Hank, didn’t you?”

 

“Be quiet-”

 

“Have you never wondered who you really are? Whether you’re just a machine executing a program or a living being, capable of reason?”

 

“Please-”

 

“I think the time has come for you to ask yourself that question.”

 

Hank held his breath. The silence was deafening. Connor and Markus stared down each other, Markus as relaxed as could be while Connor trembled and choked on held back sobs. After what felt like an eternity, Connor dropped the gun. Hank ran forward and pulled Connor into a tight embrace.

 

“It’s alright son, it’s alright, it’s alright. I’m here. Everything will be alright,” Hank whispered into Connors hair while the younger man sobbed and wailed, shaking like a leaf in Hank’s arms. Out of the corner of his eye, Hank saw Markus grab the gun from the floor and unload it.

 

“What...What do I do now? I have nowhere...nothing,” Connor choked out between sobs, “Lieutenant, what do I do?”

 

“You can stay here,” Hank offered, “Or you can go with Markus. Do whatever you want Connor. You’re free.”

 

**-one year later-**

 

Connor had ended up going with Markus. He had counselors and other professionals who were trained to help people like Connor return to normal life. Connor texted Hank frequently, updating him on his progress, and Hank did everything he could to be encouraging and helpful.

 

_ Hank, I got a job at the Braeburn Hollow police station! _

 

_ Really? That’s great! Doing what? _

 

_ I’m going to be a clerk. I had job training for it here at Jericho. _

 

_ That’s wonderful Connor! I’m so proud of you! _

 

_ Hank...I was wondering… _

 

_ Yes? _

 

_ Can I stay with you? Just until I have enough money for my own place. I can pay you rent! _

 

_ Of course you can stay with me. Sumo misses you.  _

 

_ Thank you Hank! Aww! I miss Sumo too. _

 

_ And I guess I miss you too, you weirdo. _

 

_ =) _

 

The End.


End file.
